Delleren of the West
"I have stood idle before, well... No longer." |Row 2 title = Age |Row 2 info = -13,000~ L.C. |Row 3 title = Place of Birth |Row 3 info = Outskirts of Zin-Azshari |Row 4 title = Title(s) |Row 4 info = Undefeated of the West |Row 5 title = Occupation(s) |Row 5 info = Emissary Sailor Adventurer Archaeologist Scion of House Shar'kal |Row 6 title = Affiliation(s) |Row 6 info = The August Celestials The Black Prince Ravenholdt (Formerly) The Moon Guard (Formerly) |Row 7 title = Faith |Row 7 info = The Wild Gods Elune Queen Azshara (Formerly) |Row 8 title = Family |Row 8 info = Delnara (Mother) Zhaven (Father) † Delerren Breezedagger (Mate) Belina (Step-Mother) † Ikelyndir (Brother) † Caesaro (Brother) † Vahadriel (Sister) Delilah (Daughter) Ikelyndir (Son) Aelthundyr (Son) }} '''Delleren of the West '''is a contributing member of the Alliance's ongoing efforts to stay afloat amidst both external and internal threats. He proves to be a crucial ally and reoccurring character in their constant struggle against the evil forces that threaten to pull Azeroth apart. Despite his once carefree attitude and amicable behavior around the Horde, the destruction of Teldrassil and reinvokation of old hatreds has worn his resolve thin. Del is a naturally gifted, close-ranged fighter with a weak propensity towards healing magic. Through the grueling teachings of the Kun-Lai Monks, he has learned to wield chi with respectable competence. A braggadocios adventurer consumed by wanderlust, the monk dives head first into the approaching dangers throughout his journeys with surprising initiative, fighting the Iron Horde, the Legion, and much more dastardly foe. Appearance Delleren is an average sized kaldorei of athletic build. His head is adorned by a mane of stark, white, unkempt strands, the long lengths of which fall just past his neck and shoulders. A neat and orderly stubble wraps around his jawline. A declarative nose sits proudly upon his face, usually complemented by his nonchalant expression. His face is pristine and unmarked, a balance that isn't overly macho nor pretty. As a default, his expression is quite neutral in most cases. He isn't afraid to show a smirk or pout when the situation calls for it, but his natural facial emote is that of an unamused, forward stare—scoping out whatever fancies his interest at the time. Big, tall, and kind of a dick, Del is the culmination of physical and spiritual strength. Similar to a paladin’s mastery over their faith, he has learned to infuse chi into every strike he is capable of throwing—within reason. This has made him a good bit stronger than the average brawler, even when up against a tauren or someone of larger physical prowess. Because his power isn’t limited to the amount of muscle that can be attached onto bone through ongoing hypertrophy and nervous system shock, he is able to forgo the bulkiness of a full-on brute for a more compact, lean physique. His frame is of a pale blue complexion, not pink nor dark in shade. A small gourd sits at the elf's hip, dangling freely by an almost careless string of leather which loops into one of his belt notches. It is marked with the pandaren symbol for 'Storm' in black ink. Within the container, a soft vibrance shakes its very foundation every so often—as if it had a life of its own and was trying to free itself from the prison that was the gourd. If one were to glance around his belt, they might even catch a glimpse of a Hearthstone™ deck clipped onto the side of it too. The smell of him; It depends really. Most nights, the elf collects a faint sour stench of alcohol—add in a hint of lavender and that sums him up quite well. Most mornings and evenings though, it's entirely different. He keeps himself surprisingly pleasant smelling, if there was ever such a thing. His natural scent, when not obscured by sweat or booze, had an earthy fragrance to it. It doesn't take one long to realize how much this elf enjoyed showing off his "exquisite" style. He wears a wide range of garments ranging from casual to traditional, and even has a formal wear for special events. Called a peacock on many occasion, Del certainly takes pride in his appearance, always updating his wardrobe with the latest materials Azeroth has to offer. This often has him wearing comfortable, durable, loose-fitting attire. But this regalia? This was unique, it appeared as if it were forged from something of a different nature. When made bare, one can see the mixture of what appears to be the scarring of a burn and serrated blade wound, as denoted by the slight lift in its composition. While no longer painful, one can only surmise by its precise form that this was no mark earned upon the field of battle but rather in that of a dungeon. Its position upon the posterior torso also suggests that it could not be self-inflicted. Small dabs of shard like burn marks are also present upon the periphery of the elf's back. Items and Companions WIP =History= Childhood Delleren was the love child of a regent and one of his favorite courtesans. His mother raised him away from the public eye, and although her name bears no significance to the threads of time, she loved her son so very much and would instill in him his lasting, strong resolve. His father was of a more important stock, a man whose influence stretched far and wide across the developing elven kingdom that was Queen Azshara’s dynasty. Suramar, Eldre'Thalas, Eldarath, Vashj'ir and many others were of great importance to him. Zin-Azshari was where he spent most of his time, as it was the capital of the Kaldorei Empire at its height. His father's origin was of Suramar though, and that is where he would start his grasp for power, as no more than a banker and a loansman. There were always many threats to the sovereignty of the Night Elves throughout Queen Azshara's reign. Whether it was an uprising, savage races knocking at their borders, et cetera; warfare required a vast amount of wealth. There was armor, weaponry, wages, food, training, and other unforeseeable costs that often deplete the coffers of ambitious conquerors, wishing to be called saviors and granted favor for quelling the conflicts of the ever expanding empire. He would lend aid to these causes with interest, but just low enough to not be accused of usury. He not only assisted in this line of work, but also in other ambitious ventures. For instance, the nobles of Suramar loved their vineyards and their lavish masquerades. Such entertainment came with great expense. There was gambling too, and of course, nobles loved to gamble. They would hardly win though, much to their chagrin and his benefit. He acquired many estates through their vices. One might accuse him of having a wicked heart, watching as lines of nobles fell into crippling debt through their own means. And in Highborne life, everyone knew everyone's plights through one tongue or another. It would not be far-fetched for disgruntled nobles to accuse him of usury. Such labels, although more rumor than truth, were effective in attracting enmity from rival banking families and the common rabble. While building up his banking operations, he fathered three boys and one daughter. Delleren was the youngest of these children, but not by much. At first, he was confined to life along the outskirts of Zin-Azshari with his beloved mother. Although a courtesan, she was of the highest class in a sense. There were two types, his mother told him: Courtesans and whores. One spreads their legs for coin, and the other entertained hosts of people with their talents: Be it singing, magic, dancing, and so on. She was even of Highborne lineage and sported the enchanting amber eyes many were enthralled with at the time. She served in the Moonguard till 'complications' took her away from such a calling. Rumor had it that she was even one of Azshara’s dearest handmaidens for a time. Her background was well-known, and because of that she was highly sought after by voracious nobles and suitors alike, always promising to "spirit her away" from her profession. Delleren learned the basics of magic by her hand, and spent much of his childhood exploring lands farther out. Wanderlust was in his blood. It wasn't until he was a young teen that his father sought him out, persuading his mother to allow him the chance to live a good life within his estate. Now that he was of a less vulnerable age it made more sense to bring him into the fold, as his father had many enemies whether they be cloaked as friend or stand as foe. Highborne society was filled with many pitfalls. Dependable allies and friends were hard to come by. Only those bound by blood, even at a fraction of it, could be held in such esteem. His father wasn't the type to spoil him though, no, far from it. Delleren was tasked with many trials and tribulations. These challenges weren't to better him physically or magically, but to test his intelligence, wit, and resolve. After all, If he were really his son he would come out on top of the tasks thrown at him. Managing a choice amount of gold and making a two hundred percent return on it, collecting on heart-wrenching loan defaults, and so on. By the time he was into his later teens, the boy had become a more calculating mind than either of his brothers. One favored what other nobles did, spending much of their time partying, drinking, and the more lavish lifestyle. He also happened to be hot-blooded and quick to start a fight, often times mistaking honor for ego. This happened to be his middle-brother, Ikelyndir. He drank expensive wines and partook in the many masquerades and festivities of both Zin-Azshari and Suramar, attending balls and parties alike, gallas and so on. Much to their father’s chagrin, he also enjoyed displaying the wealth of his family, purchasing finely made cloaks and garments that would adorn his body with exquisite gildings. He was the supposed peacock of the family, strutting his colored feathers for all the other nobility to see. For all his flaws, he was known to be one of the best fighters in all of Suramar at the time, often skirmishing with the similarly aged individuals of other noble houses on the streets. Ike embodied the stalwart heart of the noble house, but one could certainly say he lacked the capacity to keep level-headed, often reaching for his blade to settle many disputes. The phrase often heard is “walk softly, but carry a big stick.” He stomped loudly and still carried one, earning many enemies for the House of Shar’kal growing up. Finally, the eldest brother was of remarkable stock. He was a genius, a prodigy in every sense of the word. From a young age, Caesaro was remarkable in everything he did. His studies, his magic weaving, and even doing quite the opposite of Ike, making allies among the Highborne caste. He was without equal in the family, an exemplar of knowledge and virtue. Though, he did not think much of other races or even those he deemed lowborne. This was an opinion not shared with many though, kept within the back of his mind and often seen by who he surrounded himself with as far as company went. He was simply an elitist, a purist in every sense of the word, and although he helped run his father’s business smoothly, he often refused loan grants to those he deemed unworthy. This was noted upon by his father, and though Zhaven was saddened by it, he could not fault his eldest son for his upbringing. This is partly why Zhaven coveted his illegitimate son. Between the pugnacious, hot-headed, duelist Ikelyndir and the prodigy, but elitist Caesaro, Delleren filled in the middle-ground, or would prove to in time. A non-too noble upbringing, similar to Zhaven who had started from nothing, was what he saw in his youngest son. If he had his blood, he had his potential, he even had his silver eyes. Vahadriel played a much more versatile role in the family, and as select gender specific paths hadn't been formed, save for the allowance of only women as Priestesses of Elune and Azshara’s Handmaidens, she would be given to another house when she came of age. She was the kindest Shar’kal to Delleren, providing council in times of his mother or best friend’s absence and defending him whether he did wrong or not. The noblewoman played the part of a buffer between the supposed usurper and his brothers, but her influence and voice would dim as she was betrothed to a house that would not survive The Sundering. Luckily for Delleren, she had not inherited her mother’s temper. To understand Belina and prove sympathetic of her position would be a tumultuous task, as there is much to be weighed with her. No one is truly evil, and evil does not believe itself to be as such, and for this reason her situation and fate can be described as “unfortunate.” An unfaithful husband, a step-son walking within her domain as evidence of his infidelity, and her unrivaled addiction to snuff. Though, Desdel Stareye would come close. It wasn't till much later that the young elf would find himself engrossed in another prospect, war. As the kingdom expanded, so too did their enemies. Forces were spread thin, and unlike the mortal races, they could not procreate at the speed required to occupy these lands comfortably. This is when the war between the elves and trolls kicked off, a foreign threat that took the form of many skirmishes upon the Kaldorei Empire's expanding borders. Delleren made a name for himself. As far as wars went though, it was closer to that of a slaughter. Having grown up alongside the Well of Eternity, the kaldorei proved to be too strong a foe with their arcane mastery. Trolls wielded spears, axes, and far more mundane, archaic magic in comparison. Within a matter of time, the Twin Empires that had decimated and divided the Aqir, had been given the same treatment. It mattered not what would come of it, as all that most Highborne saw, Del included, were the laurels to be had; and what laurels they were. Even with his silver eyes, he was permitted into the ranks of the Moon Guard and would use that as a springboard towards higher elevations. WIP Adulthood WIP Friends and Relationships WIP Category:Characters Category:Night Elf